


Day Thirteen: Eating Ice Cream (AKA 101 Things You Can Do With Ice Cream)

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [13]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, 69 (Sex Position), Alcoholic Root Beer Floats are awesome, Food Porn, Ice Cream, M/M, Movie Night, Playing with Food, Sixty-Nining, Two-parter, sofa sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie Nights at the Quartermaster's residence get off to a good start, but something always comes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Thirteen: Eating Ice Cream (AKA 101 Things You Can Do With Ice Cream)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, ice cream gets sticky. That's what showers are for.

Q flopped back on the couch and groaned. “I swear on all that is holy and good in this world, if I get one complaint about that fucking upgrade, I will throw everyone’s computer out the damned window and shove their tablets up their arses. I’m serious, here, James. Dead serious.”

Bond nodded and pulled Q against his chest, tilting him back so he was reclining against him. “I know. I get those days.”

“But when you get those days, you get to go on missions or go to the shooting range or beat the living hell out of a bag. What do I get to do? Deal with it. Because I have a job that requires me to not be emotional because what is the point of getting all shouty? You can yell and scream at a computer and it will just sit there, because it’s a bloody computer. You could hit a computer all you want, all you are going to do is break it, and then where the hell are you going to be?” Q sighed. “I just wanted one hour to myself today, one measly hour that I could go and do something other than fix a glitchy upgrade that _kept. Fucking. Glitching._ It wasn’t even _my_ mod, it was R and D’s mess. Why am _I_ fixing it?" He threw his hands up in the air. "Because I’m the TSS wunderkind from bleeding MIT or whatever, don’t care, stopped caring at around 4:17 today.” He growled and picked up his Xbox controller with his toes and deposited it in his hands in an act of flexibility that made Bond _want things._ “What do you want to watch?”

“Something with explosions and fast cars.” James ran his hands soothingly along Q’s ribcage, flinching where he felt ribs. “When was the last time you ate?”

Q pulled up the Netflix menu and flapped his hand in dismissal. “Lunchtime.”

He snorted in response. “I know better than that, now. What day?”

“Yesterday.” Q turned around and pinned the agent with a mildly exasperated glare. “James, I’m used to not eating a lot. I don’t need to be fed every time you come over.”

Bond sighed. “I can feel your ribs.”

“Yes, and if I push hard enough, I can feel yours, too. Listen. James. I don’t starve myself. I don’t go out of my way not to eat. I either don’t have the time to get something, don’t have the patience to make something, or get so engrossed in a project that I actually forget to eat.”

“You also forget what day it is.”

“You should have met me in Uni. Half the time, I didn’t know what day it was, the other half I was waking up in the commons after falling asleep on my feet and just folding to the ground. There was a point of time that I didn’t know what year it was, who the Prime Minister was, or even if I had changed clothes recently. Forget eating - I was just shoving something that might have resembled food in my mouth, regardless of nutritional value or edibility. Pizza, mostly.”

“Oh, God.” James pulled him back again, and rubbed his belly lightly. “You’re kidding.”

“Dead serious. I was on autopilot. It was much like when we get emergencies at the SIS. I just go on auto and run only the basic processes to keep my body alive - breathing, heart, intake of liquid. Food, sleep and other things are trivial. After the crisis, I crash and eat. Sometimes at the same time." Q huffed. "Are you happy?”

“Happy that you can remember to change clothes. Even if those clothes are a bit...”

“No, we are not going through this again, my clothes are fine. I wear what is comfortable and affordable. I don’t get clothes bespoke like you do.”

"Why can't I get you a suit?"

"Because I won't wear it. Why do you want me in a suit so bad?"

James chuckled, and pushed at Q’s shoulders. “Up. Move your skinny arse. I’m getting the ice cream you bought while you were out yesterday, and we are going to eat it together.”

“Ice cream? Yes please?” Q flicked the control stick around to search for an explody car movie for James. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Because I want to take you out of it later.” The freezer door opened. “You have root beer schnapps. And vanilla ice cream.”

“Root beer floats aren't just for kids, lovely. And how does ‘Gone in 60 Seconds’ sound? Fast cars, I think there may be explosions. Right up your alley.”

“Root beer floats. You are amazing, you know that?”

“I do.” Q paused as he parsed the rest of the conversation. “Wait. You want me in a bespoke suit just so that you can peel me out of it later?”

“Good enough reason, yeah?” The clatter of cutlery and glassware drifted out of the kitchen. “I think so.”

“Who’s going to be paying for the tailoring?” Q flicked to ‘The A-Team’. “How does A-Team sound?”

Bond sauntered out of the kitchen with two really big glasses full of alcohol with a scoop of ice cream on top. “Something with explosions, I don’t care what. And don't ask stupid questions. I will.”

Q accepted the glass and let James sit back down. The larger man wrapped his legs over Q’s hips, leaned against the arm of the couch, and snatched the controller from the hacker’s hands. “How does this thing even work?”

“You don’t know how to work a controller?”

Bond stared at the flabbergasted man in his lap. “Noooo?”

“We are going to play games after the movie.” Q pointed at the joy stick. “You can move through the movie selection like that...yes,” he nodded when Bond moved his thumb, “and then you press A to select - perfect. What are we watching?”

“The Avengers.”

“No fast cars in this one.”

“Have you even seen Stark's car?" Bond laughed. "Okay, he doesn't actually drive it, but there’s a giant alien thing that comes out of the sky. Makes up for it.”

Q pressed up against Bond. “I thought you don’t watch movies.”

The agent snorted, and wrapped his arms around the skinnier man. “I’m sure the little creatures that live near volcanic vents in the sea floor have heard or seen bits of The Avengers by now. It’s everywhere.”

Q stirred the drink until it was a gloopy mess, then gulped half of it down. “That’s” - _cough_ \- “true.” He squinted. “That should have stayed in the freezer longer.”

“I think it’s just fine.” James craned his neck down and licked the vanilla and root beer-flavored mustache off of Q’s lip, then licked into his mouth when Q pushed against him and growled deep in his chest. They stayed like that for a bit, trading playful kisses back and forth, all roving hands and pleased hums, completely ignoring the theft of the Tesseract and the standoff in India. When the Helicarrier takes off, Q comes up for air and another drink that drains the glass.

“Oop. Drink gone. Need more.” He pointed at James, who had ended up fully laid out on the couch, his head jammed up against the armrest. “You stay here, and take that shirt off.” He had the bright emerald glint in his eyes that told Bond that he was thinking evil thoughts, and _boy oh boy, I can’t wait to find out what was going through that man's head._ He quickly shed the shirt and pulled it out from beneath him, ignoring the slight burning from his neatly stitched and clean knife wound, then craned his head when he heard Q pad back into the room with the bottle _and_ the pint of ice cream.  _Oh, brilliant._

“Don’t you want something to cover the sofa? You know, if we are going to play with our food like this?” Bond couldn’t hide the dusky tone in his voice, nor could he hide the bulge in his jeans that Q palmed with one hot hand after he set the items down.

“I’m going to be picking up another sofa tomorrow.” The hacker knelt down in front of the couch.

“Oh.” Bond shivered a bit when Q dragged his tongue up along his obliques, following the rolls of muscle and lines of scarring with the wet tip, raising goose pimples along the tanned skin. “Jesus fucking - “

“Shhh. Quiet.” In the background, Loki screamed at everyone to “KNEEEEEEEL!” and the tab of Bond’s trousers came open under Q’s fingers - there went watching _that_ movie. The elastic of his underwear lifted away from his skin from the press of his erect cock, and Q snuck a quick finger into the gap to find it and pull it up and out.

“Tell me this isn’t the point where you put something really cold on my prick.”

“Nope.” Q popped the lid on the ice cream and the schnapps both, and smiled wickedly. He took a slug of the alcohol, and then offered the bottle to Bond. “You’ll be fine.”

“Good.” James closed his eyes when the man surged over him and kissed him hard, and he worked on Q’s shirt buttons, fingers slipping them out of their anchors efficiently. He pushed his shirt off and away as Iron Man and Thor fought in the forest, and latched onto his pale neck as Captain America arrived. Q’s moan drowned out the action on the television because his mouth was on Bond’s ear and his fingers dug into Bond’s shoulders, and the agent pulled his fingers up Q’s spine, counting the bumps of his vertebrae one by one. Q finally broke away and grabbed the ice cream off the coffee table, stirring it with a spoon and churning it into a slurry. James resisted grabbing the pint and spoon-feeding it to the hacker, putting his hands behind his head instead. With that same glint in his eyes Q pulled a spoonful out and dripped it down Bond’s midline; making a line that traveled from the dip in his collarbones, between his tense pectorals and over his abdominals, right down to the head of his prick. Bond’s ice-blue eyes flew wide as the cold spoon grazed the sensitive skin - not deliberate, since Q muttered a breathy apology - then the cold was gone. Q moved to the head of the couch and followed the path of the melted dessert, starting at the dip and slowly moving down, using his lips and his hot mouth and tongue to clean up the sticky liquid. Bond shivered, unable to keep his hands away - he gripped Q’s sides and dug his fingers in, enjoying the squeak of surprise emanating from somewhere near his belly button. With a physical jerk of his head, James had an idea. His fingers flicked at Q’s belt and trousers where they pressed lightly at his temple, shedding both as the man reached the agent’s throbbing cock - _finally!_ \- and with an easy lift had Q straddling his head, knees by his ears and shins pressed against the armrest.

“Let me scoot down.”

With a hum, Q lifted his body with his arms, and Bond wriggled out of his own trousers and pants while he pulled Q’s pants right off, and moved until he had a good angle to his target. James mouthed along the hacker’s rigid prick, pressing his lips and tongue against the veins and pushing his foreskin against the head, making Q jerk and moan and “Oh, God, James, just suck me already!” before he himself made a noise he did know he could make as Q swallowed him right down to the root. James reached for the pint and snatched the spoon out, taking his mouth off Q’s cock long enough to mutter, “Might need a new carpet, too,” before setting the utensil on his arse and letting the melted ice cream drip down his inner thigh before licking it up.

Q shivered and backed off James's prick. “Oh, hell, that’s sinful.”

“Next time, we are doing it with chocolate and honey.” James growled when the hacker licked up his whole length in response.

“Oooooh, honey. I like honey.” The cool breath on his wet skin made Bond's muscles twitch.

“I know you do - Oh, hell!” Q had gone back down on him, and James figured this may be a good time to shut up and put up - or out, as it were. He pushed his fingers into the ice cream, and wrapped his sticky hand around Q’s hot cock, drawing a combination of sounds out of the hacker, all of which vibrated down into his balls and ignited a fire that traveled up his spine and into his brain. “God, that feels...fucking hell, this was a good idea.” He licked and swirled his tongue around on Q, basking in the attention he was receiving. _Why haven’t I thought of this before? This is brilliant!_

Q hummed and pulled off with a wet pop that James thought only happened in pornos. “If you want, we could get more things to play with. I do have honey.”

Something in Bond’s brain broke, and he blinked at the younger man. “You have - I’ll replace your fucking bed. All of it. I’ll buy it all. Covers, mattress, box spring, all of it. I’ll redo your whole flat. You can sleep at my place until it all comes in. Just fucking do it.” He scrabbled for the controller to pause the movie.

“No, don’t touch the controller, don’t bother, fuck the movie, it’ll be fine, it’s not going to run anywhere.” Q pushed to his knees and swung his leg over, barely missing the now completely melted ice cream. “Take everything to the bedroom. Want to continue drinking, too?”

James surged to his feet and gripped Q by the hair, breathing heavy into his face before flexing his messy fingers and claiming the hacker’s red lips. Both of their bodies were sticky, the overwhelmingly sweet scent of the vanilla mingling with their normal scents, and both men twitched with lust. Their cocks pressed together, Q’s sticking slightly to Bond’s when they broke away from each other. “We’ll finish the schnapps. I just want to fuck you _stupid_ right now.”

Q’s eyes darkened even more. “ _Fuck_ , James. You are going to get that chance. Bedroom. Now.”

“Yes, Quartermaster.”

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
